Hear the Spark
by Wind-on-wave
Summary: IDW G1. Timeline: second issue of "Transformers: Drift". Small story about special swordmech's trainings. And one very stubborn ex-Decepticon. warning: it's translation from Russian into English, so... sorry for grammar and mistakes.


"He moves like drone with upset settings."  
"Axe …"  
"No, I'm serious. Like he can't control his own actuators."  
"Axe."  
"Aren't you afraid you'll have to drag him to the maintenance staff again - with him not being able to handle the swords?"  
"Axe!"  
Tall knight silently chuckled and bowed his head slightly to side looking down at the serious white-and-red jet, in Axe's opinion - too serious.  
Wing with his arms folded across his chest armor, turned his optics at the center of the training hall - the white figure of the ex-decepticon was visible there … still stubbornly pretending not to hear the conversation between two knights; though loud voice echoed through the empty spacious room whichbathed in artificial light - and Axe was clearly not going to talk more quietly.  
Wing quietly vented his systems, then looked up at his old friend.  
"He will manage."  
"Yes?" - Dai Atlas's second-in-command chuckled again and looked askance at Drift in his turn. - "He holds the sword as if he is going to dig mines with it."  
"He's still learning."  
"Wing, but he can't even take the attack posture right, not even…"  
Ex-decepticon turned on his heels, blue optics flaring - and Wing belatedly thought that it would be better to show Axe the way to the door a while ago… and that now it is too late. Jet quickly raised his hand in a calming gesture but Drift was faster..  
"Stick your opinion in your fuel tank, trasher" - hissed the cybertonian in a low voice, stepping forward.  
Axe grinned widely.  
"Or what?"  
"Or you yourself will become a drone with upset settings and then go to the scrap heap of rusty slag."  
Another step.  
Wing stood between the two cybertronians, throwing a warning glance at Axe, and soothing, with lifting corners of his mouth - at Drift.  
"He is still learning" - repeated the white-and-red jet.  
Dai Atlas' second-in-Commander looked at him from the height of his growth, than shook his helmet.  
"You know perfectly well, Wing, how much time does it take to learn control on servo. Someone has Primus gift for it, someone does not …"  
"There is no Primus" - an evil hiss sounded from behind the Wing.  
Axe did not pay attention to it.  
"Your decepticon won't be able to handle even a simple dance. What can we say about the possession of a sword?"  
Not hearing, but feeling ex-decepticon behind him getting more and more furious, Wing jerked corners of his mouth in a quick smile.  
"Axe, come on, you …"  
"Should go?" - Tall knight looked over his shoulder at the grinning Drift. "You could have just said."  
"Axe!"  
Silently laughing, massive cybertronian hid in a doorway, and his footsteps soon died away in the quiet of light corridor. Wing turned to the ex-decepticon.  
"Forgive him."  
"Nut talkative."  
"Knowing Axe, I can tell you, that what he said is not out of malice."  
"Rusty transistor!" - Once again baring, Drift brought his hand to throw a sword on the floor - but froze, caught sight of a white-and-red jet. And noisily vented cool, even chilled, air of the underground city thorough his systems.  
"Not out of malice, is it?" And then he smiled sarcastically, pacing few steps away from Wing. Then frowned, as remembering something. "And what about a dance he's said? What is this exhaust?"  
"We called with this word one of training practices. It is necessary to hone the control of movements. And for working in pairs."  
"Dance" - Drift chuckled, shaking his head. "Sounds silly. And why do you not teach me this?"  
"You move good enough."  
"Your friend thinks different - from former Decepticon's vocalizer slipped frankly poisonous notes. "You think I'll scew it?"  
Wing nodded his helmet, and paused before answering.  
"You can't work in pair - you've never done" - jet's voice was soft, no offensive tone, no reproach - just a statement of fact.  
But simple words were enough to Drift.  
Raised his chin, short cybertronian stepped forward, looking at the knight slightly from the bottom up.  
"So what? Teach. You always say to me that I should learn. Go ahaed. Do it."  
There was a brief silence; two mechs stood facing each other, and regular, warm light of the training hall made the jet's optics even brighter and seemed to smooth out the sharp features of the ex-decepticon's faceplate.  
Finally, Wing nodded.  
"You won't need any weapon."  
In a strange sort of reverie he watched Drift go to the weapon rack, gently hang his short sword in the fasteners and then return with an openly mocking smile, as if asking - "Well, and what is so hard about what you want to show me?»  
Instead of answering the jet went to the centre of the large training room, stopping just below a circular opening in the high vault of the hall, through which one could see towers of the city and somewhere, even higher - dark stones of the cave arch.  
Drift kept looking questioningly. Wing cautiously grabbed Drift's white forearm with his fingers and pulled the ex-decepticon closer to him. Drift snorted with exhaust air.  
"Well…?"  
"When two are fighting together, they have to follow the movements of each other. Feel each other, even if the partner is not in sight. Understand what he would do next instant."  
Jet received only a careless shrug in response.  
"Yes. And so what?"  
"When you fight together with someone for a long time, there is a feeling that you can sense his Spark."  
"Really?"  
Drift did't even try to hide mockery in his voice.  
"And did you succeed in it?"  
Wing hesitated and shook his helmet.  
"That doesn't matter now" - catching another mech's hand, the knight put it on the white metal of his chest armor. Jet's own fingers lay on top of purple smear of decepticons' insignia.  
Drift slightly frowned, then looked puzzled.  
"And … what's next?" - He tried to remove his hand, but Wing did' t allow him.  
"First, you should learn to feel the other's movements, standing beside. The distance will gradually increase - but for a while you have to keep it the same as now. Touch allows you to feel better."  
White cybertronian frowned, as though the knight's words seemed to him… stupid. Strange.  
"How?"  
Jet raised the corners of his mouth.  
"Someone else's Spark."  
Making a step forward and a little one to the side, he didn't give Drift a chance to answer. The former decepticon backed awkwardly. Another move made by Wing, and the next moment the knight grabbed with his free hand the hand of the low cybertronian, which he tried to draw back by moving aside, not keeping up with the other's movements.  
"No. The hand - it helps. Just try to feel."  
"That's stupid."  
"Learn to …" - golden optics twinkled softly, and Wing suddenly stepped back - a neat, sharp movement, making Drift to follow him, trying to repeat the motion lest he should run into the knight.  
And one more step - to the side, then - one more, more … the white-and-red jet stepped the dark metal floor almost silently, and only a faint rustle of the ventilation system gave away it's motion, in contrast to the Drift, who sometimes ran into the other's elbows, knees, not keeping up with the next step of the knight. And then the ex-decepticon pulled a face, frowned, but after a moment noticed the shimmer of golden optics. And made the next step.  
"You look at my feet" - suddenly and quietly said Wing.  
"Yes. So what? How i must guess without it where you go next?" - with these words Drift lost his step again and silently swore.  
"You do not have to guess. You should feel. Understand. And look in the optics. It will prove useful to you not only in pair fighting, but also when you face the enemy alone."  
With a grimace the former decepticon looked up to the other's faceplate. Jet nodded and smiled easily.  
"That's better."  
And once again he took a step, causing Drift to move backwards and sideways, then suddenly go ahead, turn around, trying to repeat the movement of the knight, to keep the distance between them, not to tear his fingers from the white metal armor - smooth, cool.  
These movements did not have a rhythm, fast steps alternated with slow, lingering ones, long - with short, smooth - with sharp. And there was no direction, no consistency …  
Only attempt to understand where the next moment will move Wing, and what wil be his next step.  
The jet turned sharply, making Drift to do the same - behind the knight was the light golden wall of the hall.  
"Now - you."  
"Me …?"  
"Yes. Go on" - quick smile flashed on the light faceplate.  
Silently snorting, the former decepticon took a step forward, pushing Wing to the walleven harder, then - sidewards, with sharp, quick movements… the jet kept uo with them so easily that it seemed that it was he made them rather than Drift .  
The white-and-red cybertronian was silent, and his hand lay on the purple insignia almost weightlessly, completely hiding it, and under his own fingers the ex-decepticon felt the other's systems hum faintly.  
It was hard to look in the golden optics. Unusual. Drift - when he was Deadlock - always looked in someone else's optics with a challenge, but now everything was different.  
This time he turned away now and then, clinging to the edge of the white "wings" on the helmet of the knight. And walked down the hall, backwards, or vice versa - forward, feeling that his movements are repeated, mirrored, not a single wrong step made. His own footsteps, the rustle of the ventilation system, the lightest gnashing of servo drives, barely caught by the audiosensors - these sounds were some kind of a rhythm that one could detect, feel …  
And at some moment, when Wing himself suddenly took a step, ceasing to follow Drift, he did not lose a step, but retreated, and the next moment again shifted his feet, either guessing or really understanding what will be the jet's next step.  
The ex-decepticon rather felt than heard silent laughter - not sarcastic, but warm and appreciative. And he shifted his gaze to Wing's faceplate, looked in the golden optics, not falling out ofthe quick step, not catching, who made the first move, he or the white-an-red jet.  
Maybe he's just learned to guess.  
Maybe he caught the understanding of others' movements.  
Maybe - and Drift silently chuckled - he caught echoes of someone else's Sparks, easily, with his fingertips.  
But that's not what he was thinking about; the questions will come later. In the meantime the former decepticon just stepped cautiously on the dark boards of the floor, following the irregular rhythm of jet's steps - or setting his own, replying to Wing's bright smile with his own, crooked, but hardly angry..


End file.
